


Alchemy By Any Other Name

by artFULLYoutuvIT



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, I guess...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artFULLYoutuvIT/pseuds/artFULLYoutuvIT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy learns the secrets of Flame Alchemy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alchemy By Any Other Name

_Your dream…can I entrust my back to it?_

Roy followed Riza quietly into the kitchen.

She turned to the stove, "would you like some tea?"

The young military man traced his hand idly along the surface of the table, "no thank you."

Riza looked up at him. Mr. Mustang looked very different in the bright blue of the military uniform: austere and distant. He glanced at her and gave her a smirk, like he knew she had been observing him, and Riza gave a small smile in return. That was more like the Mr. Mustang she knew. Riza turned away from the stove, "well if you don't want anything, then I'll show you the research."

"It's here?" Roy looked surprised, then thoughtful; "I still don't understand what Hawkeye-sensei meant when he said he never wrote down the results of his studies. I figured he'd stashed it in a library somewhere."

Riza shook her head, "no, he always kept his research in the house," she failed to keep the slight bitterness out of her voice, and Mr. Mustang looked at her suspiciously.

"Where is it?"

Riza moved towards the stairs, "follow me." She felt his dark eyes watch her closely as she climbed the staircase and turned into her bedroom. Mr. Mustang said nothing, but as she turned to look at him she noticed him scanning her bookshelves.  _He's probably wondering how long those precious symbols were hiding just one room over_. She took off her jacket and sat down on her bed. Mr. Mustang's eyes met hers, and Riza knew that she should explain what she was doing, but the words just wouldn't come. She slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders.

Roy's eyes widened and he reached out a hand to her, "Riza—" she turned her back to him and heard him suck in a breath.  _There, he can see it now;_ she thought idly as she pushed her dress down to her hips and reached behind her to unclasp her bra, revealing the rest of the tattoo. It was impressive, she knew, though she couldn’t see the whole design in a mirror. _And frankly, I don't care to._ That was part of her father’s motivation, after all. Mr. Hawkeye was a thorough man: cleverly concealing his powerful research and ensuring his daughter remained as isolated as she had while he lived, lest she should find someone to whom she could entrust not just her person but also the power to become a living weapon.

"Oh,  _Riza,_ " that tone of voice was not what she had expected, she had not expected to hear pain, "Riza, how could he—when did he," his voice was shaking now, "Riza I am  _so sorry._ "

She turned her head to look at him, after grabbing her blanket off the bed to cover her front, "why?" Roy's eyes widened, "I don't recall you placing the tattoo on my back, Mr. Mustang."

Roy's conscience was not appeased, "but he did it when I left to join the military." It wasn't a question. The words were spoken quietly, and Riza could easily detect the tone of guilt in his voice.

"I don't blame you, Mr. Mustang," Riza said, "I believe that you have earned the secrets to my father's alchemy," and Riza left it at that, turning her head away from the wide-eyed man and leaving her back in full view.

She heard Mr. Mustang slowly take a step forward. She imagined she could see his thoughts warring with each other in his mind: his intense want for the secrets and the misplaced guilt over her marred back. He took a few more steps forward and then Riza felt the bed dip beside her as he sat down. She couldn't help but peek a little around her shoulder at him, and she saw that he had produced a notebook and pencil, no doubt from one of his pockets. Riza's eyes met Roy's, and as always, he didn't look away. He let all of his guilt seep through his gaze, but Riza also saw something there that she had only seen a handful of times before. She wasn't sure what to call it—she had always secretly hoped it was something like  _want_ —but it always made her feel slightly nervous, which she hated. Riza turned her head. She heard the scratch of graphite on paper and tried to ignore the presence of the young man behind her.

As the minutes ticked by, marked by the tiny clock on her wall, Riza felt herself grow more and more anxious. It was impossible to deny the fact that she was sitting half-naked next to a man she had always admired. When Mr. Mustang had first appeared at her door at the awkward age of thirteen to study with her father, she had known he would be different from the apprentices to come before him. But it was more than that. She had never interacted with a boy so close in age with herself—a tender 11—and she was surprised at how warmly he treated her, like a friend, thanking her every time she brought him coffee during his late night studies, or entertaining her with games of chess when her father gave him the rare night off. And as he grew, _oh, how he grew,_ she felt her admiration gain a sharp edge of attraction. She could pinpoint the exact moment when she realized just how badly she wanted him. It was her fifteenth birthday, when Mr. Mustang, sweaty and shirtless from chopping wood in the backyard, had presented her with transmuted daises and pronounced her  _"officially a lady."_ Riza could remember everything: the fresh smell of the flowers blended with the slightly tangy smell of  _him,_ the shining moisture beading on Mr. Mustang's collarbone, and she had known then,  _right then,_ that any other man would pale in comparison to this one.

_And that man is currently sitting on your bed, in an empty house, next to you._ Riza inhaled slowly and then let out the breath, fighting hard not to react to every sigh or frustrated exhale of Mr. Mustang that reached her back. She knew the array must be difficult to decipher, as her father would have made it so, but she couldn't decide if she wanted him to finish with it quickly and allow her to regain her composure, or wanted him to take his sweet time and leave her to her fanciful thoughts. Riza realized, belatedly, that the sound of Mr. Mustang’s pencil had ceased. However, neither made any motion to get up.

"Riza, may I touch you?"

Riza inhaled sharply. He hadn't said 'can I touch the _tattoo_ ,' he hadn't said  _it,_ he had said _you._ A small, unbidden voice in her mind said,  _where is he going to touch me?_ Riza chastised herself.  _Idiot, he means your tattoo._

"Yes," she replied eventually, unconsciously clutching the blanket closer to her front. Despite all of her musings, the reality of the situation still made her apprehensive. But before she knew what to do, before she had prepared herself, she felt Mr. Mustang's breath on the back of her neck. She felt his warm fingertips hover over her shoulder, cautious, but curious.  _Alchemists,_ she thought,  _always after that next array, that next mystery. And this is everything he needs, everything he wants. With this, he can go after his dream…with this, he'll leave._

This revelation was enough to damper any remaining thoughts Riza still had about Mr. Mustang touching her. This was science to him, not some silly girlish fantasy in which she was indulging herself. Mr. Mustang could do better than a scarred alchemist's daughter. Mr. Mustang had great dreams of bringing new life to this country, dreams that didn't involve a backwater town and a backwater girl. Mr. Mustang had a good heart, and that was why she would trust him with this one secret, the only one she had.

He still hadn't touched her, and she was surprised to detect the slightest quiver of his fingers, centimeters above her bare skin. "It's okay, Mr. Mustang," she kept her voice low, as though soothing a frightened child, as though this didn't affect her at all, "go ahead."

"Riza, please," she felt the shaking of his hand increase, "my name is Roy." He placed his fingers on her back.

"Roy," she said. Her entire spine was tingling in an unexpected way. Tiny shocks seemed to race up and down her body, and she tried valiantly to ignore how breathy, how  _needy,_ her voice had sounded. She wasn't even sure if her saying his name was in response to his unspoken request or her own sensations. Whatever the case, Roy's breath hitched in his throat as his hand began to trace along the lines of the array. Riza was feeling very embarrassed now. She had clearly made him uncomfortable, and she cursed her lack of restraint. Riza felt Roy's hand stop its wandering and then, "say it again."

Riza gasped softly, she  _really_ hadn't been expecting that.

"Say my name," he insisted.

Riza felt unwanted heat ignite in her cheeks and her belly with his words, but she complied, "Roy."

Both of his hands were on her now, tracing the array with something akin to urgency, as though it would vanish if he stopped touching her. "Say it again," he muttered.

"Roy," she responded louder. Her entire body was quivering now, and she was sure he'd been lying about needing the array, because her skin was rapidly heating under his touch, fire licking at her veins and making it increasingly difficult for her to breathe.

"Riza," his breath was becoming uneven now as well, and it suddenly became clear to her that he wasn't seeing the array anymore. His hands were tracing the curve of her waist, where the tattoo didn't reach. His mouth was dangerously close to her ear, open slightly and breathing warm air on her nape. And suddenly Riza really didn't want to pretend that this was about the array anymore either, however it seemed Roy would not move from this spot, this comfort level. So Riza did what she did best, and summoned her courage.

"Touch me," she said.

Roy let out a shaky breath, "I  _am_ touching you," she could tell he was grinning slightly.

"No," she corrected, " _touch me, Roy."_ He let out a groan at her words, but made no move to listen to her.  _Fine,_ she thought,  _I'll make it so he'll simply have to._ She spun around on the bed so her blanket-covered front was pressed against his broad chest. Riza could feel the hard planes of muscle under his scratchy shirt. She breathed his name again, and it worked like a chisel carving at his stone restraint. She could see the cracks forming as clearly as she could feel her heart beat accelerating from the warm contact with Roy. He slipped his hand to the back of her head and brought his other to rest back at her waist. But Riza wanted more. If his chaste touches to her back could bring forth these feelings in her, then his passionate ones would consume her, she was sure. And that was what she wanted. Tomorrow, he would leave, and she would be left with nothing but this empty house filled with empty searches and empty wishes. Just once Riza wanted to be surrounded completely by something other than solitude, and let something slip out from behind her carefully constructed mask. She wanted to be truly alive just once, to give in to her every desire, before the flame was snuffed out by the wind.

She dropped the blanket.

Instantly, she felt something in Roy give as he moaned softly and slid his hand from her waist to her breast, weighing the soft mound in his hand and brushing the pad of his thumb over her already hard nipple. Riza tried to let her head fall back but Roy's other hand held her in place and brought her face close to his.

"Roy," she sighed, and he kissed her.

His lips moved hastily against hers, hot tongue seeking entrance that she quickly granted. His mouth felt so good against hers, his tongue sending heat straight to her core, and she felt moisture pool between her thighs. She took his tongue between her lips and sucked on it, then moved to suck on his lower lip and nibble at it slightly. She was relying on pure instinct to guide her, as she had never done this sort of thing before. She couldn't have even if she had ever shown an interest in anyone else. But Roy knew everything about her, and this was the last thing she had to share. He moaned into her rough kiss and eagerly massaged her breast. Riza let out a low whine and pushed herself against his hand, loving the feel of his calloused palms against her tender skin. Meanwhile the dress that had been shrugged to her hips was rapidly sliding lower, and she shoved it down further with her hands until she could toss it and her underwear to the floor. Hastily, she clambered onto his lap, feeling his arousal pressing through his military issue slacks. Riza pushed her hips down onto his, practically dripping with need. His erection pressing perfectly into a place that had her light headed.

"Shit _, ah,_ Riza," Roy bucked his hips unconsciously, breaking the kiss to stare at her wide-eyed. She ignored his unspoken inquiry and began undoing the buttons of his shirt, stopping to kiss each new inch of exposed pale skin. This was everything she had ever wanted and Riza refused to stop now. As she began adding her tongue and teeth to her ministrations, Roy's hands found her rear and squeezed, grinding her down more firmly in his lap, all sense of surprise forgotten. Riza moaned and tugged at his shirt, and he released her briefly so she could remove it. He pushed her gently onto her back and sat on his knees, gazing down at her. Riza felt terribly exposed, but the way he was examining every inch of her, trying to devour all of the exposed skin at once, only fanned the flames licking at her insides.

"Riza," his voice had a hint of wistfulness to it, and she realized that he knew as well as she did that he would be leaving in the morning, "you've always been so beautiful, Riza. So beautiful and untouchable. I've always—but, I've never been—"

"I am not and was not my father's property," Riza stared up at him.

"I know," Roy whispered.

Riza smiled softly, "and you can touch me now."

Roy finally smiled back at her, "I know."

She held out her arms to him, and he fell into them easily. He kissed her softly and then more firmly, his eagerness from before returning quickly. Together they rid him of his remaining clothes, slipping off his military slacks and cotton boxers and adding them to the pile of clothes and fallen blankets on the floor. Riza quickly seized him and pumped her hand up and down a few times, even as she moved him to her entrance. He was so hot and thick and  _real_ and Riza knew that she wanted him to fill her.

“W-wait,” Roy interrupted her. She looked at him curiously. What was there to wait for? She wanted this with only Roy Mustang and she _did not_ want to wait.

Roy choked back a moan as she squeezed his length again. “Just let me…Riza, _please—_ ”

She released him reluctantly, deciding to trust him with this as well. Roy cradled her newly free hand in his and brought it up to kiss the palm. He pressed his lips into the soft lines of her hand, tracing them to her wrist, where he applied his tongue before biting down gently. Riza felt her face flush. This somehow felt more intimate than what she had been doing before. She became conscious again of her utter nakedness, and Roy’s. As he sucked at her pulse point, Riza shifted impatiently. She was wet and tingling, but now utterly devoid of friction where she most needed it. What was Roy about? His lips travelled further up her arm, pausing to nip the crook of her elbow and brush feather-light kisses on her upper arm, tickling her.

As he gave her collarbone the same treatment as her wrist, Riza found that the hand he had kissed had wended its way to Roy’s nape without her permission. The pleasant treatment he had given her wrist caused heightened sensations in this new place, and as he panted hot breath over one of her nipples, she gripped his hair none too gently. Roy huffed in amusement, and closed his mouth around her. Riza let her head fall back, enjoying the wet heat. He suckled and flicked at her with his tongue, his hand coming up to pinch her other, neglected nipple. Each motion sent a lance of heat straight through her core, but she still needed more friction.

“Roy, stop teasing,” she demanded.

He gazed up at her through his dark fringe, his pupils blown wide with desire. “As you wish…”

And with that, he slid down her body and fixed his mouth firmly to her entrance. Riza cried out in relief. He licked feverishly at her, making wet slurping noises that Riza was sure she should feel embarrassed about. He fixed his mouth around her clit and sucked briefly, before inching down again and plunging his tongue insider her. She bucked and whined, panting heavily. She could feel her walls flutter around his tongue, trying to draw him in further. She brought both hands back to his hair and tugged him forward in a wordless command. Roy brought his tongue back to her clit, flicking and circling the swollen bud as he eased a finger into her. Riza ground her hips forward. She felt almost full; she needed more. He continued to lap at her as he slid his finger in and out of her too slowly.

“More,” Riza said, her voice stuttering on the syllables. Roy dutifully added another finger, curling the two insider of her and then scissoring them, stretching her open. With each thrust of his fingers he lapped at her clit, working her relentlessly. Her body was quivering—charged with sensation: her awareness bouncing between her nipples—pebbled in the chill air, the fingers working inside of her, and the painful-sweet pressure on her clit. She attempted to find words again, as Roy seemed content to stay buried between her thighs with his tongue and fingers.

“R-Roy, _please,_ ” she said at last, “I want—”

His eyes met hers again, and she took advantage of the pause in his ministrations to sit up and tip him backwards. He looked up at her in shock. Riza wasted no time in crawling up his legs to sit astride him, feeling his hard length brush against her folds. Roy bucked up on instinct, seizing her hips with his hands.

“You do want to, right?” Riza panted out. His body certainly seemed willing, but she didn’t want to assume…

“ _God yes,_ ” Roy squeezed her hips again and slid his hands around to her rear, easing her towards him. She grabbed his length and lined it up with her entrance, sinking down onto him in one fluid motion.

Roy groaned loudly as she sank down, her walls stretching around the new heat inside of her. Riza sighed contentedly and rocked her hips forward. Roy flexed his hips upwards in response, still squeezing her rear, and gazing up at her in awe. _I could get used to that…_ The thought struck Riza unbidden, and so she put it from her mind, placing her hands on Roy’s stomach for balance to lift herself up and down faster, chasing her pleasure.

He whispered her name in a harsh prayer as she scraped her blunt nails on the soft skin of his belly. She replied in kind and kept her eyes on his, feeling the heat growing at the juncture of her legs where they met. She whispered his name again as he brought his fingers to rub at her clit, bringing her up and over the edge in a great tremor of pleasure, eyes finally closing as she rode out the waves, distantly feeling him spill insider her as she clamped down on him. And as she lay awake with Roy's head pillowed on her chest later that night, Riza knew she could follow this feeling everywhere; she could follow  _Roy_ anywhere.

_Even into hell…_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, nothing like uploading smut that I wrote years ago and then gratuitously expanded on a Wednesday afternoon...
> 
> If you liked this story, please kudos/comment, or come say hi on my tumblr @nechao


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